Khagd'grom Alehammer
=Physical Description= The best thing about Grim's appearance is anything that isn't him. Polished armor encases him most of the time, and his weapons are always fit for the strictest inspections. If he's not wrapped in metal, anything else appears sloppy in comparison--and probably is to most anyone. He is always scowling, or trying to do so through any other expression. Dark rings have formed around deep-set eyes, and his skin is as weathered as some hunters'. His mouth is hidden by light brown, bushy facial hair. Tiny streaks of white hide in his long beard's scraggly braids--likely tied more for utility than any sort of fashion appeal. The rest of his head is a polished bald, and sports a scar or two. =Personality= When on out and on-duty, Grim is straight-faced and serious. If pressed to fight, he will, but Grim prefers to resist his old "bad habits." The values he learned as a soldier, focusing on strictly following orders and striking down his opponents, sometimes conflict with the compassion his training as a paladin teaches him. He tries hard to remember the teachings of the Light, and can often contain composure and patience when he wants to. Grim has five easily-described pastimes: metalworking, studying the ways of the Holy Light, carrying the Light to the frontiers and battlefields, and drinking alcohol. (The latter is a natural thing, so counting it may be questionable.) =History= Never let it be said that the Alehammers aren't durable. Khagd'grom's grandfather, from his mother's side, was a blacksmith and frontiersman, and often wandered far and wide, prospecting for the best metals. What his grandson learned about metalwork, patience, and inner-strength came from his grandfather's return trips to Ironforge, and the time spent together. In many ways, Grandfather Berg'grom became a stronger father-figure to Khagd'grom than his actual father, Borm. (And the names weren't the only reason.) While Berg'grom taught his grandson a craft, and the ways of the world, Borm spent his days in quarries, and all other time drinking heavily (even for a dwarf), and living up to the first part of his family name while his wife, Celidh, and two children struggled to get by. Time passed, and so did Khagd'grom's grandfather. Though his father insisted he come to the quarry and begin working with him, Grim eventually made a living as a blacksmith in Ironforge. His father died in the quarry, having decided to drink during the day as well as night and clumsily losing his footing and falling down the mine pit--proving that though dwarves have hard heads, sometimes they're not hard enough. Celidh lived to see many years of her industrious son and, later, daughter-in-law and three sons, run a small blacksmith's shop. The First War brought booming wartime business, as traders always seemed to want new armor and weapons. The Second War brought the "boom" to them, as the Horde raged through Khaz Modan. Khagd'grom had made an unfortunate choice of blacksmithing guilds, and so many smaller metalworkers saw themselves drafted into the army. The draft took his sons from Ironforge, and the war forever took Khagd'grom's sons away from him. His sister and Celidh worked with the dwarven supply routes to the front lines; when their caravan was attacked by an overwhelming Horde detachment, Khagd'grom became the last of his family. The loss of his sons was bad enough, but coming home to a cold hearth and two heartbreaking letters of consolation from the army for his wife and sister was nearly too much for him. Khagd'grom couldn't bear to stay in his empty home. He left behind the anvil, returned to the army, and spent the next years fighting the scattered remnants of the orcs that infested his homelands. He doggedly pursued orc escapees from internment camps and those that had hidden after the Second War. Every promotion was refused by the footman--Khagd'grom preferred to be one of the first soldiers in, and last to leave. The dwarf was brutal and unflinching in his work, and was proud to say that he never gave an orc enough time to surrender or plea for mercy. The cold demeanor he showed in battle gained him the nickname "Grim'grom," and he liked the sound of it. When the orcs rose up and escaped their prisons, Grim'grom was quick to volunteer to help Lordaeron scramble to regain control. As the kingdom fell to the Scourge, his unit was pushed south. There were heavy losses, and the fear of the undead overrunning the known world constantly sapped the soldiers of their wills. The only voices that held calm during those crushing defeats were the Knights of the Silver Hand. The paladins' tireless reminders of the Light and the Three Virtues--especially "Tenacity"--emboldened the old dwarf to continue to fight, and help Lordaeron's refugees escape the Scourge. Near the end of the Third War, Grim'grom heard the name of the orcs' legendary Grom Hellscream. To the dwarf, an orc had 'stolen' his grandfather's--and his--name. Resentful of sharing part of his name with an orc hero, and the only thing left to him of "Alehammer" being the shamed memories of his irresponsible father, the veteran insisted he simply be called "Grim." Those that used any other name were quickly, and aggressively, reminded to use the new. Age began to set into his bones after the Third War closed. Services to the Church of the Holy Light and simple volunteer work for the Church helped him pass the time. When he heard of Alliance pressing into the Outlands and fighting fel orc hordes, Grim approached the Silver Hand and requested training. To his surprise, they agreed to let the old dwarf in. The Light has given Grim new strength, both figuratively and literally. His service has reinvigorated him, and his old friends say he seems as strong as 143 years old, again (which is very good considering dwarf lifespans). Not completely ready for the battlefield, yet, Grim took up service in Stormwind's ever-active city guard, where he hoped to contribute in the name of the Light and Alliance. However, "family business" took him away one afternoon. A year later, he charged up to the door of the guards' command center and demanded to reapply.